Mutt Marionette
by FoxfaceChase16
Summary: Sequel to The Death Carnival, Hazard and his team returns, Panem in the palm of his hands. This year's DC will have a special contestant, along with a horrifying 'mutt' twist. But with Snow's granddaughter stepping into the big picture, Hazard struggles to keep his emotions under control; after all, Panem is now his marionette, and the strings are his to pull.
1. Prologue

**~PROLOGUE~**

Panem's Second Fall. Another period of the dark times.

It's happening again.

In our ignorance, we thought our peace was eternal. We thought our nation was rid of strife and war. We thought that this was our well-earned rest, after 76 years of suffering.

We thought wrong.

We were forced to watch a grotesque remake of the Hunger Games, forced to watch mutilated, brain-washed kids tear each other's throats out. Again. These children were no longer human. They were no better than mutts. Devoid of any human feelings, of compassion and guilt. Killing machines trying to quench their thirst for blood.

We do not know what is going on, or who the man claiming himself as Snow's exiled grandson is. But we do know one thing:

The Hunger Games is back, only with a new name.

The Death Carnival.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_2 weeks after Panem's Second Fall_

The first thing that hit me was the smell.

The smell of human refuse, of sweat and blood, of human misery itself. Horrible.

I detected no sign of life in the underground prison at first entry, though I will soon learn I was mistaken. The area was enveloped in deafening silence, broken only by the clip-clop of my shoes on the cold stone floor. There was a chill in the air, a breeze that left me shivering.

Weird, there were no windows.

I pulled my coat tighter around me, gritted my teeth and walked on ahead.

The four wanted to follow, paranoid that some imaginary rebel might have hidden himself inside and kill me. That is, he'll _try _to kill me. I'd have finished him off before he could swing his arm. So I shrugged off their worries and ordered them to stay put and, just for good measure, threatened to have them undergo the Electrocution Chair if I find them following me.

This was a personal trip. I have to do this alone.

When I first heard she was being held captive here, in a place not even rats would live in, I could barely control my wrath. I knew it was on the order of the late Coin, but I took out my anger on Paylor, and she suffered terribly for it. I did not care. Someone must pay.

She was only 6 when I left about 20 years back. I was 15 then, and built like an ox. She was an angel, always grandpa's favourite. She grew up not knowing our parents, for she was only 2 when they died.

Mom had this crazy desire to tour around Panem, to the Districts. I don't know where she got these ideas from. Dad, being a submissive man, agreed. They went together, taking with them only 4 Peacekeepers, and that was only after much persuasion from Grandpa Snow.

They were attacked by anti-Capitols.

They didn't make it out alive.

Grandpa was devastated. His only son and her wife died, leaving behind their children. Looking at me, an exact copy of my father, pained him. He acted as if I didn't exist anymore; never talking to me, looking past me as if I was invisible.

The year after they died, the Hunger Games was raised to a whole new level. Granpa took out his anguish on the tributes, making sure their last few days were torturous. The crowd loved it.

Lonely, with nothing better to do, I turned to watching the Hunger Games. I watched the First Games, where there were no mentors, no sponsors and no training centre. Probably the most gruesome and painful amongst the 75.

Also the longest.

The Games lasted 8 whole months, due to the contestant's lack of willingness to kill one another. Finally, the Head Gamemaker had to resort to desperate measures; killing off the contestant's family one by one and showing the murder live on-screen in the arena, only stopping when the contestants agreed to do their bidding and fight one another.

It was this little unspoken rule in life. The strong prevailed, the weak crumbled. My parents were weak and so they were killed by the rebels. The tributes had a weakness, used to the Gamemakers' advantage.

I didn't want an end like that. I didn't want to die a pitiful death.

I wanted my name to go down in history. I didn't care what I had to do, didn't care if I needed to take extreme measures to get what I wanted.

I wasn't afraid to throw away my human emotions.

I was blessed with an intelligent mind. I wanted to create a serum to make me invincible. With strength surpassing even the strongest, speed faster than the fastest, and intelligence greater than the rest. I was power-hungry, and I wasn't the least bit ashamed to admit it.

Unfortunately, the process required experiments. Experiments that I couldn't guarantee were harmless. I did what I could to find those willing to do anything for money. Most ended up dying a gruesome death.

The serum came close to perfection. And then that fateful day, Grandpa stumbled upon the dungeon I used to conduct the experiments.

I hadn't disposed of the corpses.

I was in court 2 days later, bulky guards flanking my right and left. All was amazed a 15 year old, especially the president's grandson himself, slaughtered 20 people. The story of what had happened spread far enough through word of mouth before they were stopped, changing a little every time a different someone speaks of it. By the end of the 2nd day, almost everyone who knew was convinced I had killed them in cold-blood, decapitating their heads, dismembering body parts, etc.

No one listened to me, though I told them the people I supposedly killed had agreed to be experimented on, not caring about the dangers. Grandpa did his best to negotiate with the members of the courtship, but it was no use. I was sentenced to death.

It was only after Grandpa went on his knees and showered them with bags of gold that they softened up a little. I wasn't sentenced to death. I was exiled, which frankly, meant I was as good as dead anyway. No one knew what the outside was like. After floods and fires, earthquakes and thunderstorms ravaged the Earth, it was actually a wonder Panem managed to survive at all, rising up from what remained of North America. If the bedtime stories mom used to tell us are true, well… things sure were looking bleak for me.

They didn't allow me one last goodbye to her.

It was in the outside that I met the four. Awed by my strength and wit, they welcomed me as a fellow outcast. It was no time that they saw what I was capable of, what my blood ties to the presidency meant. I promised them change, and they hailed me as the leader.

Daedalus, a former scientist, helped me perfect my serum, and with it, 26 more.

The sound of held-back sobs snapped me out of my reminiscence. Squinting into the cell to take a better look, I saw the silhouette of a human, unmistakably female.

The sobs turned hysterical as I took a step closer.

"No! No, please! No more! No more," she croaked out, shaking her head vigorously.

"Treale? Treale is that you?" I whispered. "It's me, Henri. Your brother."

The sobs stopped abruptly. There was the clattering of chains as she crawled forward, close enough that I could see her face and she mine.

Her grime-covered, unwashed, emaciated body was only covered by a thin layer of dirty cloth. There were dark rings under her eyes, sunken cheeks serving as a proof of malnutrition.

Blood seeped out from her chapped lips when she spoke. "Henri? Is it really you?"

My sister. My beautiful sister, reduced to this state. Trying to keep my emotions in check, I fumbled for the keys that will unlock her cell.

'Don't worry, T. I got you now. No one's gonna hurt you anymore."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Knight's P.O.V**

"It's not safe, Petra!" I expostulated, grabbing my big sister by the wrist. She clucked her tongue angrily, trying to break free of my iron-grip.

"Let go, Knight!" she snapped through gritted teeth. "Let… GO!" With one powerful yank, she broke free, only to trip over a discarded food container and fall flat on her back.

I winced. Must have hurt.

I offered my hand, which she unceremoniously slapped away before she got up on her own, dusting herself, grumbling all the while. I sighed tiredly. Sure she's older, but don't let that fool you into thinking she's responsible and all; she can and WILL sulk the whole day when angered, and her recklessness has got her into trouble more than a few times.

"Look, I know the food supply's almost all gone, but that doesn't mean you can just walk out with mom's bow and arrows and sneak into the Meadow! Uncle Gale will be here soon, he'll bring the food to us," I told her gently.

"When Knight?! When?! After we starve to death?!" she retorted.

"Look outside Petra! Hazard's army is out there! They might look like one of us, but they aren't human. Not anymore. You know as well as I do that they won't have a conscience, or guilt," I said firmly, looking her straight in the eye. "They won't hesitate to kill a pair of teens."

Petra looked like she wanted to complain, but found no words to. She slumped tiredly on one of the dining chairs, head in hands. "I miss mom and dad," she sniffed, trying to brush away her tears without me seeing. She took our parent's sudden disappearance very badly; the bags under her eyes –souvenirs from the sleepless nights spent worrying- proved that.

"I miss them too."

Both of us stared out the window. No one but the brainwashed soldiers were outside. In their black uniforms, helmets, balaclavas and goggles, they looked like oversized insects.

"I hope if they're okay.

"They are," I gulped nervously, not really believing in my words. "I know they are."

Just then, the door burst open, and in comes a sneering woman with flaming hair, beside her a buff guy so big he could barely fit through the door way.

"Knight Mellark," the woman said, the sneer still plastered on her beautiful face. "Son of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. We are inviting you to participate in the 2nd Death Carnival."

"Accepting means embracing the possibility of your imminent death," the buff man boomed at once, not missing a beat. There was a sharp intake of breath behind me, followed by Petra's hand gripping my shoulder protectively.

"Refusal means immediate execution. Right here, right now."

**Hazard's P.O.V**

"Are our participants ready Athena?" I asked, sitting on the President's chair. Athena, who had accessed all the secret files stored in the President's computer the moment she had her hands on it, nodded her head.

"Things are so much easier with these files. I can find the perfect candidates that match the required criteria within seconds!" Athena practically squealed, eyes lighting up like a child in a candy store. "You wanted to cut down the number in half, yes?"

"That is correct."

"Then it's all set," Athena beamed. "They just need to be, ah, _collected."_

"Our special guest is in the list?" I queried, rubbing my hands together.

"Team's collecting him right now. Too bad his sister can't join as well. A fight between siblings," Athena licked her lips, a hungry look in her eyes. "Now that would be interesting."

"Or it might start a revolution all over again. _Her _rebellious blood flows in their very veins_, _you can't ever be too careful," I pointed out.

Athena shrugged. "Oh, that special arena you were talking about? It's extremely difficult to build. All those different components; trust you to come up with such hard and complex ideas. Half my team's dead from exhaustion and it's _still _not completed yet."

"I need to make sure the show's entertaining, don't I?" I laughed. "At least the serums are ready."

"But the mutts that go with it aren't. Creating them is hard enough, giving them the ability to think like a human is almost impossible." Athena stopped to think. "In fact, I don't think it has ever been done before."

"You'll figure something out. I didn't give you the name of a wisdom goddess for nothing."

Athena sighed tiredly. She knew not to push it; I'll always win anyway. Instead, she opted to change the topic. "How's Treale?"

"Improving," I replied, which was true in some sense. A week of being fed proper meals and sleeping on a comfy bed instead of the hard floor had improved her physical condition. She's no longer just a bag of bones, slowly regaining her past beauty back. I wished I could say the same for her mental and emotional state, but having been held captive in a confined space where sunlight is nothing but a distant memory for years had scarred her, had left her with a trauma that won't heal for a while.

She was captured after the victors passed the notion for there to be one last Hunger Games almost twenty years back, moved to different cells from time to time. Coin's murder had left everything in turmoil, and the Last Games was forgotten, the Capitol tributes left to rot.

I clenched my fist together, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. I'm here for her now. No one else can harm her -not on my watch.

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**If it wasn't obvious enough, THIS IS A SEQUEL. I'd suggest you to start reading my other story Death Carnival first, if you haven't already, before reading this. Or you'll just get confused. **

**Reviewing, following and favoriting always helps! **


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Daedalus watched as the gigantic wolf trash around in its cage, banging the metal bars, howling in pain. Mouth frothing, it collapsed and started convulsing, its paws drumming a rhythmic beat on the ground in its death throes. There was a screech as its claws made contact with the metal base –its very last movement.

The wolf's howls hung now in the air, the audible reminder of the existence of agony.

Daedalus sighed.

Another failure.

He dreaded having to report this to Hazard. He's got such a temper –especially now that Treal's found.

But there are more pressing matters at hand. Half of the contestants have been collected, and training days will begin in less than 2 weeks.

Will the mutts be ready by then?

* * *

**Knight's P.O.V**

Petra put up quite a fight. I fear for her now –the last time I saw her she was lying unconscious on the tiled floors of our kitchen after the woman was done with her. I can only hope Uncle Gale gets there fast.

I recognized my kidnappers as 2 of Hazard's cronies; part of the 5 that had singlehandedly taken over the Presidential House. They had done the impossible; the House had been a fortress, guarded by an infinite number of highly trained guards with state-of-the-art technology. All hopes of escape instantly vanished. There was no way I'm getting out of this now.

They threw me into a room void of any furniture or window, meaning the only means of entry and escape was through a steel door that was locked 24/7.

"You know, I didn't think he'd be this scrawny," Zeus, the burly man, muttered to Devious, his partner. Didn't even bother with the niceties of keeping his voice down so I wouldn't hear the obvious insult.

"Guess the Mockingjay never had any reason to train him," Devious shrugged. Her grin turned savage. "Bet she's regretting that choice now."

Theirs laugh echoed in the room long after they've banged the door shut and clicked the lock in place.

The sudden lack of light almost gave me a hyperventilation attack. To be robbed of my sight, the dominating sense, was an unwelcomed change to my system. As if possessed, I groped around blindly, myself unsure of what I was trying to find. I needed the reassurance that something else was there; whether it was a pillar or a wall I didn't care. I needed the certainty that I wasn't lost in an eternal void.

Only then did I realize that I wasn't alone.

I saw the gleams of 5 other pairs of eyes, watching the panicked newcomer trash around like a drunkard. Self-consciousness immediately took over, but quickly subsided when I realized that in this darkness they couldn't have seen anything much anyway.

"Umm, h-hello?" I called out, voice sounding strained after the few rounds of shouting and screaming back in the house.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence, before a voice, unmistakably male, spoke up.

"Guess Mommy and Daddy didn't do so well cleaning up the filth eh," the boy says, hatred dripping from his voice. "They missed one of the particularly crazy ones –Snow's grandson too, at that."

"Goodness, Petra," a familiar voice cried out in alarm. "What on earth happened?"

Petra grunted as a response, too weak and in pain to do anything else. There was a dull throb in her left ankle, where the woman had kicked it hard. Definitely broken.

"I'm going to lift you up and put you on the couch okay? It's gonna sting a little," the man warned. Cracking her eyelids open half an inch, she made out the burly figure of Uncle Gale, his forehead creased with worry. She moved her head awkwardly in a failed attempt to nod.

"All right. One, two, three!" he huffed out as he hoisted Petra up. The pain was immediate. It was as if thousands of red-hot needles were being pushed into the flesh in her ankle. Her vision blurred as tears swam in her eyes, and she bit down hard on her lower lips, trying to ignore the excruciating pain.

Uncle Gale laid Petra on the couch, gently propping her injured ankle in a comfortable angle.

"Wait here, I'll go get help."

Petra's eyelids fluttered close as she heard the tiniest creak of the door and the sound of Uncle Gale's footsteps fading away. And that was when realization struck her like a bullet in her gut, leaving her gasping for air.

She had failed her little brother. She had let them take him away. She couldn't do anything to stop it.

She never spoke it out loud, holding on to that sliver of hope that it wasn't –it can't be- true, but she had her doubts that her parents were returning. History classes, as well as the few stories that her parents had told her had warned her of the dangers. Not everyone loved the Mockingjay. There are those few Capitol rebels lurking about in the deepest darkest shadows, plotting their revenge, hoping one day their thirst for the Mockingjay's blood would be quenched.

Maybe their wish had been fulfilled.

And with Knight gone too, she realized she's truly alone.

The tears came, silent at first, but not for long. Waves upon waves of incessant bitter sobs racked her body, as a concoction of emotions run through her –guilt, anger, fear, confusion.

_Oh Knight, what have I done?_

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